


You're my type

by godsdaisiechain (preux)



Series: Warriors [2]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Pre-Canon, fleeing for his life, post assassination
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 16:23:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8453383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preux/pseuds/godsdaisiechain
Summary: Pre-Canon. Before and after Moretti tries to kill Carl Elias.  Anthony and Carl have a conversation.Chapter 2 (new) Anthony POV.Chapter 3 was posted as "First or second" for the Fan Flashworks "Confession" challenge.





	1. Surf and Turf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carl remembers something Anthony said when they were boys together.

When they were boys, Anthony had never said much, so it was a surprise when they walked past a fancy restaurant and he paused to look at the menu and said, “My grandfather brought me here once.  He got me a surf and turf.”

“What’s that?” Bruce wanted to know.

“Steak and a lobster tail.”  Anthony said. 

“I like steak,” said Bruce, “But lobster looks weird.”

“It was good,” said Anthony.  His face drew in a little, the way it did sometimes when he remembered something bad, and Carl shoved him and then the three of them jostled each other and ran up the street to play ball.

***

 

Years later, Carl remembered the exchange.  He had figured out who his father was, and determined to see him, to find out if he could win his place as a son.  He’d proven himself as part of the crew and Moretti’s heir apparent was an unutterable moron. 

Yet, something in the back of his mind told him that this might be the last time he saw his friend, so he brought Anthony to dinner.  They had avoided being too flashy with their money.  They also avoided being seen together too often outside the tiny room they shared.  No one else knew where it was.  Sometimes, they left in the middle of the night and walked and talked for hours, but mostly they played cards or chess or read to each other. Generally, Carl did the reading while Anthony listened, regarding him thoughtfully with those dark eyes.

“We want the surf and turf,” Carl said.  Anthony looked up in surprise.  The waiter left, and Carl said quietly, “you have to show me how to eat the lobster part.”

Anthony smiled.  “It’s been a long time,” he said, but he remembered enough that they didn't make a mess while eating.

Afterward, they walked for miles and then went back to their tiny room and drank their stash of liquor, sprawled over Anthony’s bed.  “Carlie, what’s up?” Anthony said. 

“I wanted to…”  he started. “I remembered you said your grandfather took you….”

Anthony nodded. “My old man beat me up. Put my mom in the hospital.  That’s why he did it,” he said. Carl’s breath latched itself into his chest. “We stayed with him a while, but he couldn’t afford…”  Anthony paused. “He wanted to explain.  We had to take care of ourselves.”

“My god, Anthony,” Carl said, rocked to his core.

“You’re doing something,” Anthony said.  “You’re going to talk to him.”

“Yes,” said Carl.

“It’s not safe, Carlie,” said Anthony.  “If he wanted…” Anthony stopped, looked down.  He didn't want to say aloud that if Carl’s father cared about him, he would have helped rather than leaving him in foster care. That Moretti would have protected his mother.  "Are you sure?"

"He said there would be a place," Carl said, then changed the subject. He touched Anthony’s arm. “Anthony, I’m sorry. I thought you would like it.”  Anthony looked up, and Carl’s body nearly sizzled under the expression in those dark eyes.

“Thank you, Carlie,” Anthony said. “That was… Thank you.”

“I didn’t mean,” Carl said. And leaned forward to press his mouth against Anthony’s.  In a moment, he had crawled on top of his friend. They broke apart, breathless.  Carl looked from Anthony’s eyes to his lips and back again, and Anthony pulled Carl back down for another kiss.

They woke late the next morning, still fully dressed, nestled together like spoons in a drawer.  Neither of them knew what to do, so they pretended that nothing had happened while they got up and readied themselves for the day.  As Carl turned to leave, Anthony took his arm.

“Promise to call me when you're done, Carlie,” he said.  “I’ll stay in tonight.”  Carl didn’t say anything.  “Promise,” Anthony said again.

“OK,” said Carl.

“Say it, Carlie.”

“I promise.”  Anthony kissed his cheek.

“Good.”


	2. Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carl needs help. Anthony leaves everything behind to save him.

Anthony spent the morning collecting money from a couple of their stashes. Then he spliced the phone wires so he could hide in the building next door. 

Carl didn’t call.  Anthony felt sick to his stomach in the same resigned way he’d felt the first time he had to beat someone up to prove himself.  It was unpleasant, but it had to be faced.

Anthony thought over the possibilities and came to an unhappy conclusion. Moretti would never cast off the son of his marriage, no matter how stupid that son was (and the son was useless as far and Anthony could tell).  In fact, seeing Carl, how well he had turned out despite everything, would likely have made Moretti angry. Carl’s mother had been beautiful, but she was also intelligent.  That was a problem. There had been others, Anthony had heard, but   Moretti had gotten rid of each one as the wife found out about them.  Sent them to other cities, mostly.  Only Carl’s mother was killed.  Moretti wasn't a fool himself--anyone knew better than to kill more than one old lover.

Anthony sat up all night. It was morning when Anthony crawled into a closet with the phone and fell asleep. In his dreams, other possibilities rose up. Perhaps Carl was busy with his new crew, doing something awful to cement his bond with Moretti’s organization.  Maybe taking up his place as Moretti’s son meant he would have to give up his friendship with Anthony.  Or, perhaps, Anthony thought, Carl could have run off, frightened by their feelings for one another.  But in his heart, he knew what had really happened.  They’d taken him to Oyster Bay. Or some other spot where they could dispose of the body. Carl’s body.

Anthony grabbed the phone on the first ring. “Anthony?” Carl sounded terrified, but Anthony’s heart leapt with joy. Carl was alive.

“Where are you?”  Carl gave an address.  “Hide. Ditch the car. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”  Anthony grabbed the knapsack containing a few first aid items, ammunition, underwear, and all their money, climbed out through the neighbor’s fire escape.   

He stole a car, drove to Queens. Stole a second car.  And a third.  It took some looking.  Carl had somehow covered twelve miles on foot from the car. Probably more, since he was smart enough to leave a trail of blood and then backtrack. 

Anthony found Carl huddled behind a shed, shaking, his hands curled against his chest. “Carlie?” 

“I’m sorry,” said Carl, teeth chattering. "I should have listened to you." Anthony had folded him into a hard embrace, squeezed until Carl stopped shaking.

“Let’s ditch that gun and get you out of here.”  Anthony smeared Carl’s palms with Vaseline, put him in the back seat of another stolen car under a blanket and then drove across the nearest bridge.  They boosted another car from the parking lot of a shopping mall and headed north, stopping at a McDonald’s.

“Eat,” Anthony said, opening the foam container and handing Carl a cheeseburger. 

“I’m not sure…” Carl said. 

“Then drink the coke,” Anthony said.  “Can you do that for me?”

“Thank you, Anthony,” Carl said.  Anthony cleared his throat, but couldn’t answer. 

“Get some sleep,” Anthony said.  “I’ll drive a while.” 

Carl slept while Anthony drove. “We have to be careful out here,” Carl said when he woke.  Anthony nodded, squeezed his knee.  “Thank you for rescuing me, Anthony.”

“No problem,” Anthony said, but they both knew it was a problem.  “I think we should hide out at a camp ground or something. Make a plan.”

“Is there a map?” Carl asked.  Anthony grunted. “There’s a sign, but maybe we should take a smaller road.  Maybe go up into the mountains.  It’s the end of the season.  Places will be closed up.”

“All right, Carl.”   Anthony pulled into the parking lot of a small store, put on sunglasses.  “I’ll grab a few things for later.”

It was nearly dark when they found a back way into a vacation area, chose the cabin with a pile of broken furniture outside labelled for pickup.  Inside, they found a bed with a bare mattress, a couple of old blankets. 

Anthony stumbled with fatigue, nearly falling to his knees. “You need anything?” 

“Just you,” Carl said. They stretched out on the bed and Anthony covered Carl with a blanket, and moved away.  “No,” Carl said, voice shaking. “Don’t.  No.”  Anthony paused, then put an arm around him, kissed his forehead.

Anthony fell asleep, and Carl lay awake in the shelter of his friend’s arm.  Even though Moretti had ordered him killed just a day before, Carl had never felt so safe and cherished as in that place, listening to the gentle breathing of his closest friend.


	3. Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carl and Anthony accept their feelings for each other.

The first time it happened, they tried to pretend it was something else, but it wasn’t.  And they both knew it. But Carl had something to do. Something important. Something he might not walk away from, they both knew, even if neither of them admitted it.  

The second time, they had nothing left to lose.  
  
*+*+*  
  
“You okay there, boss?” Anthony asked, when they woke, curled up together under one blanket, huddled like puppies or tangled like lovers, he wasn’t prepared to say.  It had been quite a night.  Horrible.  Even with Carl safe in his arms, pressed against his shoulder.  They were on the run, being hunted by dangerous men.  
  
“No,” said Carl, touching Anthony’s face with soft fingers, then pulling back when the grubby bandage got in the way.  “I wouldn’t say ‘okay’ quite covers this.”  Anthony’s smile lit the crumbling brick, the frayed curtains, the shabby mattress, even the two pairs of shoes caked with mud and leaves.   The shoes they’d left on in case they had to run for it again.  
  
“I’m just glad you’re all right,” Anthony said. He took in the bloody marks on Carl's neck. “Alive, at least. You got a plan?”  
  
Carl’s eyes flicked down, then met Anthony’s.  “A college. One with a lot of trees.”  Anthony realized he meant to join Bruce. There was only time for a stab of pain and jealousy before Carl continued.  “You’ll like it.”  Anthony said nothing. “Knowledge is power.”  
  
Anthony’s eyes clouded. “I ain’t the college type.”  
  
“You’re my type,” said Carl. Anthony went very still.  
  
“I’m not smart like you,” he said.  
  
“I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t listened to you.  Planned another way out.” Anthony’s eyes softened, but he stayed still.  Carl continued. “And I can’t, won’t do this without you.” Anthony blinked.  “Do I offend?”  
  
“No,” said Anthony, his face remaining otherwise motionless.  
  
“I surprised you,” Carl said, rather than asked.  
  
Anthony leaned forward, eyes dancing with affection and amusement, and pressed his lips against Carl’s.  “All right?” Anthony said, when they had done.  
  
Carl smiled. “Doesn’t cover it,” he said, as Anthony helped him up.   Carl rested against his friend, just for a moment, before they made their way to the door.  
  
“I always thought it would be me…” Anthony admitted. “That said something first.”  
  
“Let’s get out of here,” said Carl.  “Find something else to do for a while.”  
  
Anthony smiled.  "I have something in mind."


End file.
